


Fall and Tell

by trashyeggroll



Category: Black Lightning (TV)
Genre: F/F, Jealousy, PWP, Quickies, Semi-Public Sex, thundergrace - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 15:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashyeggroll/pseuds/trashyeggroll
Summary: Zoe B. gives Anissa a VIP invite and a plus one for a show. Grace finds a creative way to work through her jealous reaction. [set between the couch scene and the jump-rope scene in 02x12]





	Fall and Tell

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought that Grace's "you mean caught you with Zoe" line was a sign of a possessive streak ('cause for real... she was in the wrong), and then Chantal and Nafessa have been posting pics of shooting Season 3... October can't get here soon enough.
> 
> Title from ["Spell"](https://open.spotify.com/track/07GBC9jrFSSoWWy9r2CaWt) by NIKI

“Are you  _ sure _ this is okay?”

Anissa flashes Grace a smile, squeezing her hand as they wait in the rope line for Cain’s, a music venue not far from the Ruby Red in downtown Freeland. The bartender is looking casual yet stunning as usual, wearing a black and gray flannel tonight, with black skinny jeans ripped around the knees and charcoal ankle boots. They might look like two cake toppers from afar, with Anissa in a dress with white top piece and almost-sheer, loose-falling light cream skirt, her braids wrapped high on her head thanks to some help from Jen. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. Zoe invited me, and I said I was bringing my… you.”

The meta clears her throat as she watches Grace’s expression tense slightly. That… was not her fault. Neither of them had broached the g-word topic since getting back together, though they had agreed in a brief, nervous conversation that they were “exclusive”, the real-life equivalent to being listed as “It’s Complicated” on Facebook. She’s not even sure that’s an option anymore, and she almost gets lost pondering that though before a strong voice interrupts them. 

“IDs please, ladies,” says the bouncer, a tall, broad woman with a pen light. She shines it at the offered licenses, then hands them back. “Pierce. Got you as a VIP with a plus one, this way.”

“VIP,” singsongs Grace as the bouncer pulls aside another rope, letting them enter the venue via a private door. It leads into the VIP-only bar, where they get special wristbands that let them in and out of the concert area through an archway guarded by two more bouncers. The opening act, which can be seen from flatscreens mounted around the exclusive area, is an R&B singer, young, with a bright voice that adds some much needed levity to the air as Anissa orders drinks from the bar illuminated with soft purple light, with Grace waiting a few people behind her in the thick, raucous crowd. 

“Whiskey sour and a pale ale,” says the barkeep as he hands her the aforementioned drinks. 

Anissa starts unzipping her purse to retrieve her credit card, only to have a hand land on her shoulder. For a moment, she doesn’t react, assuming that it’s Grace, but then she hears definitely not-Grace say: “Her drinks are on me tonight, Amir.”

Familiar perfume—spicy, strong—hits her senses, and Anissa turns to find Zoe B smiling back at her, feline and a little foggy. Even though she’s literally there for Zoe’s show, Anissa’s still taken off guard to have her so abruptly filling up her personal space. 

“Hey stranger,” continues the vocalist, eyes dropping very obviously to Anissa’s lips. “I’m so glad you came. I  _ missed _ that gorgeous face.”

The meta stares back, unsure what to do—she’s got two drinks, and the pressing crowd is too thick for her to move away without looking rude. So she smiles and accepts the hug Zoe gives her. It’s a little too long, platonically speaking, but the glasses in her hands help keep it fairly stiff. 

“Thanks for the invite,” says Anissa when her bearings come back together, and she thinks she manages a decent smile. “Glad we can still be friends.”

“Me, too.” The vocalist’s voice shifts lower, pitched so Anissa has to lean slightly closer to hear her. It’s a trap. “It’d be such a shame to never see those legs again. Bigger shame I won’t get to feel them around my shoulders after the show tonight. Unless… I misunderstood your bringing a plus one?”

Heat flares up the meta’s neck, and then another hand touches her unexpectedly—and it’s  _ actually _ Grace this time, leaning just into view from Anissa’s right. She reflexively hands her the IPA, and Grace accepts, but her eyes are locked on Zoe B as she drinks a mouthful of the beer with one hand and puts the other arm around Anissa’s waist. 

“Hi,” chirps the bartender with a thin smile. “I’m Grace.”

“Zoe B,” greets the other woman, cheerily enough, and she lifts her own drink in a mini-toast. “Anissa and I were just talking... about old times.”

Grace nods and keeps sipping from her pint glass, eyes glinting with a look Anissa’s never seen before, like molten coals. The fingers on her hip tighten, and the meta simultaneously feels a flutter in her belly and a rush of nervousness. 

“Thanks for the free tickets,” Grace says once half her beer has gone, and it’s clear Zoe has no intention of walking away unprompted.

“Of course. Anything for Anissa—I know she’s a big fan.” 

Grace’s teeth flash in a half-smile, half-snarl, and she replies without missing a beat, “And it’s a perfect date night out, for us.”

“Music  _ does _ always get Anissa in the mood.”

_ Shots fired. _ The meta sucks down her own drink through the tiny black straw, resisting the urge to look between the two women like it’s tennis. On the one hand, Grace has nothing to worry about… on the other, she’s looking  _ very _ sexy in this puffed up pissing match, her shoulders and jaw set, protecting her turf. Still, Anissa doesn’t  _ want _ this night to go badly for any of them—it’s one of the very few she’s had off from saving the city lately, so she desperately blurts, “We should probably go find our spot for the—“

“You can use my private balcony,” says Zoe with a royal wave of her free hand. “You’ll have a perfect view.”

“That’d be really cool, thank you,” replies the meta, smiling genuinely. 

“I’d hate for you to miss a note.” Zoe moves a little closer, absurdly, because Grace hasn’t budged an inch, and the three of their faces are far, far too close for Anissa’s panicked mind. She feels the vocalist press something into her palm, and then give her a kiss on the cheek before pulling back. Grace’s whole body tenses, and Anissa quickly squeezes the iron hand that rests on her hip, stopping her from potentially lunging. 

“Nice to see you again, Grace,” Zoe says to Grace, her casual tone belying the slyness of her expression. When the bartender makes a brief, confused face, she clarifies, “You were serving food at my party, right?”

“Yep, and have a good night,” interrupts Anissa, backing up forcefully through the crowd and dragging Grace with her. “Can’t wait for the show! Break a leg!” 

“I’ll break her leg,” Grace is muttering behind her, thankfully not loud enough for more than just a couple people nearby to hear. 

Anissa keeps tugging her arm until they arrive at the exit to the concert space, where there’s at least a little more room to breathe. She puts her drink on a nearby standing table to free up both hands to curl over Grace’s cheeks, feeling the heat under the golden skin, and kiss her until the tension melts from the taller woman’s shoulders. Mostly. 

“Baby,” sighs the meta, brushing her thumb across pouting lips. “I’m sorry, G. I didn’t know she was gonna be like that. From our phone call, she sounded like she was gonna be cool.”

Grace swallows, forehead wrinkling with what doesn’t look quite like jealousy, but something closer to insecurity. “It’s fine.”

“No—no, it’s not.” Anissa drops her hands to Grace’s shoulders and grips tightly, like the gentle, but firm force of it will help get her point across. “Grace, I’m with you. I’m here with  _ you. _ And that’s the  _ only _ place I want to be.”

“She  _ really _ read how to push my buttons.” Grace offers a weak smile, but leans into Anissa’s touch. “I’m sorry, if I embarrassed you at all.”

“You didn’t. That crack about your job wasn’t cool, either.” The meta gives her another quick kiss, and then decides to try and lighten the mood by staying close to deliver a whispered tease, “Besides. I kinda liked watching you swing your dick around.”

Grace laughs, abrupt and surprised, and Anissa can’t help but beam a smile back at her. 

“Come on. Let’s find this bougie balcony.”

It takes several rounds of asking security guards, but they eventually make it to the spot, just as the opening act is wrapping up her set. The side balcony isn’t just raised; it’s also blocked off by a dark red curtain on one side, meaning special guests can watch the show without being ogled by the audience. There’s two bouncers outside, but no one actually on the platform when they step into the dark space. It’s got a couch and two plush armchairs, and Anissa plops down on the former after briefly inspecting the leather for stains. It has a “venue” type smell, a little smoky, but seems to be acceptably clean.

“What did Zoe give you, by the way?” asks Grace with one quirked eyebrow. “I saw that move.”

Anissa blinks, then remembers having shoved whatever it was into her purse pocket. She checks, and her hand comes back up holding a perfectly rolled joint. 

“Well… not mad about that,” chuckles Grace, immediately producing a lighter from her own pocket. She shrugs when Anissa gives her a questioning look. “What? I like to be prepared. And drunk men at concerts like to give me nice things.”

Now it’s Anissa’s turn to laugh as she hands over the joint for Grace to light. The fire illuminates her sharp eyes to amber in the dark hall, and while the star medical student would usually spare a thought to the no smoking signs throughout the building, she has a suspicion this particular balcony doesn’t get bothered much about that type of thing.

The smoke is herbal and acrid, something strong enough that Anissa’s relaxing after just a few hits, and they end up putting it out with half left. Grace’s eyes have that reddened, glassy look, and she’s sure she’s in no better shape as the emcee announces the main act’s entrance. 

Zoe B receives a thunderous applause as she strolls into view with her guitar in one hand, waving graciously at the crowd with the other. The lights dim except for a single spotlight following her across the stage, wrapping the rest of the venue in a hazy darkness. She looks up at the balcony and blows a kiss, then settles onto the set’s single barstool to play her first song. 

Grace practically growls at the imaginary kiss floating towards them, and Anissa can’t help the chuckle that escapes in response. She really shouldn’t find angry Grace so cute, but she does, and the meta pulls her surly bartender against the back couch cushions with her, pleased that she doesn’t get any protest. Her muscles feel rubbery and loose, and she rests her head in the crook of Grace’s neck as they watch the show, silky black hair tickling her cheek, then curls a hand over the bartender’s soft, flat stomach over her shirt.

Despite Zoe’s suspected attempt at unsettling their night together, Anissa feels a rush of warm, syrupy feeling in her chest as she enjoys the heat of Grace’s skin, the honeyed scent of her hair. It’s reminiscing of the comforting moment, small as it was, of leaning on Grace’s shoulder like this in the hospital… Anissa clenches her eyes shut against going down that particular memory road, and Grace seems to sense the shift; one of her hands moves around to the meta’s spine, stroking her back in slow, wide circles. 

“You okay?”

Anissa nods, then lifts her head just enough to kiss at the base of Grace’s neck. “Yeah. Just… this is really nice, after… everything else going on, you know?”

“Yeah,” agrees the bartender, planting a kiss of her own on Anissa’s forehead. “I know, baby.” 

There’s a lot Anissa wants to say, or ask, or maybe even just hint… but Grace, this time around, has been unusually squirmy about discussing  _ them, _ and honestly, Anissa’s too caught up in wanting to keep her close to push the issue. Yet. She’s thinking about asking Grace to meet the rest of the Pierces, even… but, in time. They’re just days out from Anissa getting an apartment key cautiously pushed across the counter into her hand, after all. 

Zoe plays one, two, three acoustic songs before bringing out the rest of her band for bigger numbers, and the haze of the high and the steady sweetness of the singer’s voice has Anissa completely relaxed on the couch, a ragdoll against Grace’s side. 

The next song has a beat, and the bass and drums seem to shake the whole building as multicolor lights spin across the stage. It’s enough to vibrate Anissa’s brain in her skull, so she’s not entirely sure what’s happening when Grace’s palm drops to her thigh, sliding up to bunch the soft fabric of her dress around her hips and exposing her bare thighs. Her body has no trouble understanding, though, and blood rushes southward from her already-struggling brain.

“Zoe’s very pretty,” Grace whispers near her ear, raising goosebumps along Anissa’s arms. “She’s fit, got those really nice arms, legs… don’t you think?”

Slender fingers slip under the wrinkled hem of her dress, just brushing the front of her panties, and Anissa makes a low, strangled noise in lieu of response, because all she can think is,  _ What the fuck is happening? _

“Don’t you?” repeats Grace, breathless and gruff, as her fingertips pause on her inner thigh. Her energy’s shifted from a high euphoria to something superheated and hyperfocused, dark eyes locked on Anissa’s. 

“Y-yeah. Yes,” she admits when it’s clear Grace is waiting for her to respond, and then the bartender pulls her hand away… and Anissa can’t deny she’s disappointed, briefly wondering if she’s made a mistake.

Grace shifts on the couch, swinging her legs wide and patting the cushion between them. 

The meta’s eyes swivel, but the same as when she’d assessed the balcony earlier, no one can see them up here. No one except Zoe and her band, from the stage… She lifts herself enough to clear Grace’s leg, settling between them with her back against the taller woman’s long torso. The bartender sits up, draping both arms around Anissa’s waist, and the game finally clicks when one hand moves surreptitiously under her dress again.

“Look at her down there. You don’t miss it?”

Anissa’s tongue is like cotton in her mouth when Grace’s deft fingers push past the elastic of her underwear, and she nearly arches her back at Grace’s sharp, quiet gasp when her fingertips trace her outer labia. It makes Anissa’s nerve endings come alive, and she tries to find the words to tell Grace to stop talking so much, but nothing’s coming out of her mouth except panting breaths. 

Even from the stage, no one in the venue can see what Grace’s hand is doing, but Zoe can still see their faces—and Anissa almost whimpers when their eyes meet, the vocalist looking smug, but completely unaware that Grace’s fingers are at that very moment sliding tauntingly between Anissa’s thighs. She knows she’s wet, and getting to the point that soon Grace will know too, and it’s all so absurdly  _ hot _ that Anissa’s barely able to keep her eyes open. 

“Would you rather it was Zoe up here, with you?” growls Grace, nibbling at the shell of her ear. “Touching you like this?”

“No, baby,” Anissa manages, hoarsely, with impressive speed and a fervent shake of her head. “Not her. Just you.”

She feels Grace’s smile curling near her cheek, and the hand under her dress rewards her with a clumsy swipe against her clit. Anissa sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to tamp down a moan, even though the music is loud enough that she might be able to scream unnoticed.

There’s a pause that she first thinks is more teasing, but then soft lips press against her temple, and Grace whispers in a lighter tone, “Do you want me to stop?”

Anissa doesn’t hesitate. “No.”

Zoe looks up at the balcony again just as Grace resumes moving. She dips her fingers farther down, coating them in Anissa’s own wetness before bringing them back up to rub slick, maddening circles around her clit. There’s an insistent, proprietary part of Anissa that wants to be aghast at what she’s doing, at how much she’s  _ enjoying  _ it, but that all sounds faraway and unimportant as pressure builds at the base of her spine. Grace’s hips are subtly pushing and grinding into her backside, the bartender’s breath skating quick and hot over her cheek as she mutters darkly, “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me.” 

The song’s hitting the bridge, and the music quiets a little, making Anissa’s adrenaline flare as she barely gulps down a whine. Grace splits her fingers into a ‘V’, and the meta’s soaking her thighs and underwear with enough slick that the press and drag of Grace’s hand is making  _ just _ audible wet, smacking noises. She tries desperately to keep her expression under control in case one of the musicians looks up during their break, and somehow whispers back, “I want—want you. I want you to—hfff—make me come.”

“Tell me how good it feels.”

Anissa could scream with either frustration or pleasure at this point, so she growls louder than she might’ve otherwise,  _ “So _ good, baby. I love the way you touch me, G. Please- _ please _ , I can’t—“

The bass drops, the music once again surging to fill the air, and Anissa’s mouth falls open as Grace’s fingers start working in earnest, with the pressure and tempo she knows Anissa likes best. White-hot pleasure rushes from between her legs to gather and swirl in her belly, and she’s certain her arousal’s soaked through all the way to her dress by now, but she’s so close to the edge that she doesn’t care about that, nor does she care when she sees that Zoe is looking up at them again, and the singer’s voice falters over the speakers, just for a split second, interrupting the rising final part of the song. 

But there’s no stopping the rise for Anissa. Grace drops a sucking kiss to the base of her neck, and there’s nothing Anissa can do but clench her teeth and squeeze her eyes shut as she topples over the edge, the tense ball in her belly releasing in a cool, explosive wave of fire that curls her toes and makes her hips want to buck off the couch. But Grace is there, one hand still moving between her legs, the other arm folded over her shoulders to keep their bodies tightly together. It might look like just an embrace, Grace’s nose pressed into the back of her neck, but Anissa feels like those surprisingly strong arms are the only thing tethering her to reality. Her orgasm lasts a long time, egged on by the resumed, muttered nonsense in her ear, far more beautiful and hypnotic than any musical notes hitting the air.

“Fuck, Anissa, I can’t get enough of that… You make me... You’re so…  _ fuck. _ Let’s get out of here?”

Anissa’s still trying to regain feeling in her face as she nods, dimly aware that Zoe’s set is only halfway finished. But then Grace draws her hand out of her dress, and Anissa watches the light catch on the slick coating her fingers before the bartender brings them to her mouth, wrapping her lips around three and sucking indulgently, cheeks hollowing out, letting her tongue slide out to visibly massage along the underside of her knuckles… 

“Yeah,” she agrees, voice cracking on the single syllable as she shifts to get to her feet. Her underwear is soaked through, her inner thighs slippery as she pulls her dress back down, and Grace confirms the damp spot on her ass with a barely-stifled smile—before offering her flannel to tie around her waist. Not exactly a Look, but it would get them back to her car without embarrassment. 

For the sake of bare minimum politeness, she sends Zoe a text saying she wasn’t feeling well and had to leave, but Anissa’s pretty sure the vocalist got the message, loud and clear. 

They hurry past eye-rolling security guards, laughing down the stairs with hands entwined, and Anissa feels another stab of warmth behind her eyes when Grace tosses her a joyful smile over her shoulder, that mane of silky black hair shifting in the wind as they step outside the venue. 

_ I love you, _ she almost says, but her mouth is too afraid to give that truth voice, and… Later. She’ll tell Grace later. She kind of accidentally said It earlier, anyway, but she’s fairly certain Grace was too preoccupied to really hear (and she doesn’t think it counts to say It with fingers on one’s clit). They have a movie date planned the next day, and then she’s got to face Khalil’s funeral… So, they’ll talk about it later. 

When they get to her car in the metered lot, Grace pivots and draws Anissa in for a kiss, slow, but indulgent, accompanied by soft sighs. 

“Sorry… if that was… too much,” murmurs Grace when they part, her expression slightly bashful, despite having just made Anissa come hard enough to see stars. She does appreciate the check in, though, and her heart hammers away against her ribcage as she looks up into eyes that she  _ swears _ are reflecting the same feeling back to her. 

“I liked it. Never seen that side of you before.” Anissa brushes a wayward black curl away from the bartender’s sharp cheekbones. “Now, let’s go back to your place… and I’ll show you just how much I liked it, hmm?”

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on tumblr [@trashyeggroll](https://trashyeggroll.tumblr.com/)


End file.
